


Star Chefs: Revenge of the Pies

by Insomniosa



Series: Instagram Emblem [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Crack, Gen, Instagram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:24:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniosa/pseuds/Insomniosa
Summary: Two talented women run their own culinary businesses. But Instagram ignites their competitive spirit as much as it helps them gaining potential customers... now featuring concerned husbands who have been drafted into loyal food-tasters.[ AU. ]





	Star Chefs: Revenge of the Pies

“Now that takes care of it,” a woman muttered as she wiped off her sweat, setting the last dish to a plate. Slices of meat bathed in red sauce now reigned on the elegant black plate, and its tempting aroma traveled all the way to the dining table. Her slow careful steps brought her to where the family typically took their meals together, and she took a deep satisfied breath as she pulled a chair to unwind. She glanced at the clock. Two hours of laboring herself in the kitchen yielded a couple dishes—the braised beef with red sauce she finished last, freshly-baked potatoes she took out of the oven prior, tempting breaded crab cakes and some vegetable soup with ginger-infused broth and vermicelli. The clock told her it was just some minutes past seven in the evening, and with a proud smile she reached for the phone she had carelessly threw away when the oven beeped.

Instagram was her destination, and before long she had been scrolling down to check on the updates. At first she was not sure about signing up with Instagram, but as her catering business started taking off, the mobile application had been her loyal go-to to interact with customers as well as it does to market her dishes. Grahnye Nordion was not really the kind of woman who liked to spend much time on the internet, but through the application not only did she find interesting things from informative accounts to follow, but also a way to keep up with her relatives.

“Ares was right. Facebook is too much of a hassle,” Grahnye sighed, recalling how her one and only son—her pride as a mother—once muttered a not-so-soft _fuck this shit not again_ before he angrily shut down his laptop. When she asked what that was, Ares mumbled something about yet another party invitation he dreaded to go to, “because people, Mom, duh,”—he said, and later that night her husband Eldigan had expressed his annoyance because of the unsettling news-takes his colleagues had been sharing lately. With Instagram, most of the time there were only what seemed to be utopic rainbows or other parents bragging about their children. But Grahnye would not lose for the latter.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Going home._

Grahnye frowned. _What did I tell you about using your phone while driving?_ —sent. She sighed again. Ares was fearless, true. But sometimes she hoped the son had a bit of reluctance… judging from the timeline it seemed Ares had posted it a while ago, and she found herself muttering the similar _fuck this shit not again_ like Ares did Facebook, only this time her cusses were addressed to Instagram’s habit of not showing updates in a chronological manner.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _… Mom._

Grahnye chuckled. _Awh look at my boy being embarrassed,_ she thought again. If there was something she could not help herself besides food, it would be worrying her grown son. However she could not keep on fussing over Ares because there were sounds of a car machine entering their driveway. When the machine died, she enthusiastically strolled to the door, but it was already being opened before she could reach the handle.

“I’m home.”

“Welcome!” without further ado she enveloped her husband into a giant hug, and Eldigan spared a faint smile as he set his keys on the counter. Nearly 21 years had passed and she still did that.

“Something smells good,” said the blond-haired husband again, craned his neck to find what it was.

“You are wrong,” Grahnye smirked, “because _some things_ smell good.”

“Really? I can’t wait then,” Eldigan steered his steps inside, and… “… Grahnye, what…”

“Oh,” Grahnye smiled sheepishly when Eldigan’s steps were halted near the kitchen. “Um, that,” her smile turned even more apologetic when her husband’s jaw dropped to the floor. She liked cooking, that was for sure. But when it came to cleaning the kitchen after…

“I’ll do it later with Ares,” Eldigan quickly assured her. “You really should not overdo yourself.”

“What is left for me to do if not this?” Grahnye tailed Eldigan to the dining table. She knew she had always been frail, if not excruciatingly giving birth to Ares itself served as evidence. It took longer for her to be able to perfectly stand with her own feet again, and even when she was younger doctors had advised her to mind her activities. Weak heart, they said, if not her own body’s self-hatred because of her rather weak immune system which made her easily get sick.

“Feeding me without food,” Eldigan chuckled as he pulled a chair. “Come on.”

“… Eldie.”

“Hmmm?”

“… God,” Grahnye muttered, but she wasted no time to hop on his lap, all giggles and chuckles as Eldigan began seating her on his thighs. “Glad that you are home early.”

“Glad to be home early,” he whispered back as his hands began to get creative with her back. However both of them jolted a bit when they heard a rumbling sound outside. “Is that…”

“Yeah, Dad, it’s me,” someone replied, dismissively draping his jacket over his shoulders. He was nearly as tall as his tall father, with blond hair rivaling the latter’s. He simply glanced somewhere else as if nothing happened while his parents shyly broke away from each other, with his mother taking another seat and his father clearing his throat.

“Hello, dear,” Grahnye was the first to break off the awkwardness.

Ares Nordion simply shrugged as he handed an envelope to his mother. “This came in with the last delivery I did,” he remarked, “… and I’ll check Mystletainn later. It has been roaring louder for the past week.”

“I see my dedicated wife has landed yet another client,” Eldigan responded. “I’ll help you with your motorcycle later, Ares. But first—the dinner, everyone?”

“Oh, wait, hold on!” Grahnye brought forth her phone again, quickly typing in the passcode to unlock it. “Before that, Instagram! Ares, can you move away a bit—your elbow covered the view, I need people to be able to see those crab cakes. Eldigan—darling, can you please—yes, right. Good. Now…” she took several photos, switching her own positions as she did so. “Done.”

“Alright. Now, the food, or they will get cold.”

“Oh God, why didn’t you tell me the breadcrumbs from last night are here?”

“Grahnye, dear—“

“Nooo, hold on. I need to edit these photos and filter them. We won’t have people thinking our food is unsanitary or that I am an irresponsible cook!” almost panicking, Grahnye began tapping her phone screen, applying all the changes she felt needed for the photos she just took.

“They should have seen the kitchen if that’s what they want, Mom,” Ares remarked in a deadpan manner, glancing at their messy kitchen which made a silent witness to Grahnye’s cooking adventure.

“—oh dear God, yes. Oh, God, why didn’t you tell me sooner?! Look, the kitchen is visible in some of these photos—“

“Dear, it’s just a peek. It does not look messy, that just looks like a sight of a frying pan.”

“Nononooo. We can’t have this. I’ll take them again,” Grahnye protested. “Ares—would you help your father with the kitchen a bit?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Ares winced as he loaded his jacket and training gear into the washing machine. Eldigan raised his hands defeated, and the two began cleaning as Grahnye started preparing to take more photos.

********

 

Lachesis glared after noticing how the plates remained untouched. From across the table she could see her husband shifting his sitting position rather uncomfortably, which made things worse. “I can see that, you know.”

Finn gulped.

Lachesis glanced at the plates again. Her casserole remained neatly in its container, contrasting a half-empty container where her mac and cheese was. She sighed, raising to her feet and began walking to the fridge for a can of beer she needed. The clinking sound of the can opening felt like a bomb in a silent dining room. Nanna finished munching her mac and cheese, and was now asking Finn for his dirty plate.

Just then she turned at them again, prompting both her husband and daughter’s anxiety. “I thought both of you would be hungry.”

Nanna fidgeted. Lachesis sighed. Finn gulped again.

Lachesis took another sip and calmly set her can on the table. “I don’t get it,” she muttered. “You guys remarked how you are sick of eating dinner fast foods. And supposedly it is because I got too busy with Master Cakes. Now that I baked you real food, you did not touch it?”

“I assure you it’s nothing against you,” Finn quickly responded, eager to do damage control. Their patisserie—or rather, Lachesis’— was his pride and joy just as much as he cherished Lachesis as his wife. While others sneered when Lachesis announced her cake shop would be called Master Cakes, he had stayed beside her as she firmly defended her decision. Lachesis had always been a woman who knew what she wanted; a woman aware of her self-worth. While others accused her of bluffing or arrogance because of the name, Lachesis could not be bothered to explain a thing, but during a private time with their close acquaintances and relatives, she simply said she wanted to honor her knight-ancestors whose determination to brave life as well as battlefield became her first inspiration to open the cake shop. _And for you as well,_ Finn recalled how Lachesis raised her glass for her brother Eldigan who just got unceremoniously demoted and left without anything his former boss or company promised him. Lachesis helped Eldigan sorting himself out with some old money in the Nordions’ pocket as she was more determined than ever to open her own business. _A slave to nobody, a master of her own,_ Finn whispered in her ear adoringly one night.

Master Cakes took off with a blaze of light. The wife whose strength and determination he admired more than everything else made Master Cakes take off with a blaze of light. The cakes were sophisticatedly simple if not elegant, and true to what he told her that night Lachesis could not be bothered by trends or recent innovations as she let her cakes spoke for themselves. Master Cakes was a success, and the business made Lachesis to recruit the triplets Alva, Eve, and Eva—old employees of her parents and former subordinates of Eldigan at his old job—to help her with the store. Now those who doubted Lachesis were either swallowing their own words or, like him, could not resist to admire her strength even when the shop met its turbulent times and greatest challenges.

“… And then what?” Lachesis finished the beer, throwing the can into the bin. Bullseye.

“You are a great patissier,” Finn carefully worded his response.

“And?” Lachesis asked again. “Two people in this room, and yet none of you will just be honest with me already?”

Nanna cleared her throat. “Well—Mom,” she started, “I love you, but the casserole is bland.”

Finn gasped.

“… Come again?” Lachesis’ eyebrows twitched.

“Bland. Some parts of the meat were rather undercooked too, Mom.” Nanna did inherit a fair share of her mother’s qualities. Now that she started it, she did not mince words. “I mean—Dad is right. You are unbeatable when it comes to pastries. But eh—I guess we should not complain to you about the dinner fast foods.”

“You mean—you mean to tell me that I can’t cook _normal_ food?”

“Ummm. You made bombastic mac and cheese though,” Nanna laughed nervously.

“I can’t believe it!” Lachesis muttered, more to herself than her family.

“I… guess it’s time to order pizza?” Finn interrupted after making a soft cough as he awkwardly raised his phone to everyone else’s vision as if waiting for a command.

“Fear not,” Nanna grinned as she walked to retrieve something from a kitchen counter. She came back to the table with a plastic bag with a picture of a lion plastered over it, began unboxing what was inside and presented it like she did some wondrous magical treasure to her parents. “I saved our dinner! I ordered one from Ares which he delivered this afternoon.”

“Nanna,” Finn anxiously glanced at Lachesis.

“It’s Aunt Grahnye’s much-demanded casserole,” Nanna, completely oblivious to everything, began cutting the casserole for everyone. “With smoked beef and melted cheese just you like it. Ares said his mother was brave enough to put some Portuguese sausages instead of the typical sausages you can find in hotdogs. Ares said Aunt Grahnye was eager to get her hands on kielbasa as well. Oh, and before you start, the sausages were so well-seasoned and grilled they could go juuust well in anything. Ares might be hard to talk with, but he is not a liar.”

“You—did you order this after knowing I’d make dinner?”

“This is Uncle Eldie’s favorite too, according to Ares! I figured you’d love it because usually you simply like nearly everything Uncle Eldie likes,” Nanna still chirped as she cut Lachesis a slice. “Except when you called his deadbeat boss an asshole… not that Uncle Eldie likes him, though.”

“Is this Eldie’s favorite…?” Lachesis whispered in disbelief, her curiosity got the best of her as Finn fixed his collar nervously. “Oh!! It’s—so—“

“Mom?” Nanna stared at Lachesis. Worry was what her face spelled because by then Lachesis’ head arched, slumping over the table. Finn kicked his way out of the chair he was sitting in.

“Lachesis! Lachesis, what happened, my love? … Lachesis?”

“Why is it so…” tears were now streaming down her face while she kept busily munching the casserole. “… so… so damn fucking tasty like this??? Aaah, Eldie, I can’t even make you happy!”

Finn could only stare helplessly as Lachesis took more and more slices into her plate.

********

 

“She _what_?” Eldigan frowned, sipping his Guinness as his eyes began tearing Finn apart.

“Cried, yes,” Finn chuckled, this time was even more nervous compared to what Lachesis did him last night. Like brother like sister—the old lion looked like he could just cleave him in two and then walked away without giving a damn after. Back in college everyone knew of Eldigan’s prowess—something he apparently passed down to Ares, who was now also in college. But what he did not expect was the lion siblings were equally formidable, and he could picture Eldigan karate-chopping him while Lachesis might as well slash his throat open with a sword.

“… Because of Grahnye’s casserole,” the lion repeated, “… and not because of you?”

“Of course not,” Finn grumbled. “I won’t even dream of hurting her. She’s the only one.”

“He was a virgin,” Sigurd retorted as he returned to the table. “Your turn.”

Quan snorted, taking the bowling ball from Sigurd. “True though.”

“Better be. She is my baby sister, Finn,” Eldigan responded again.

“My, my, Eldigan,” Sigurd chuckled as he took his own Guinness, bringing the glass to his mouth. “Finn takes good care of Lachesis so far, you know it.”

The old lion smirked this time. “That’s rich coming from a dude who still reads his wife’s texts like a dumb, smitten high school boy. Anyway, emphasis on the dumb one.”

“Hey, I love Deirdre! So, guilty as charged,” Sigurd sighed, raising his hands. “But I wonder. How could… a casserole prompt such reaction? It’s just a casserole. I mean…”

“Right. I was wondering so myself. If anything, I was concerned something went wrong and Grahnye might have potentially poisoned people. The last thing to wish for when you work in culinary business,” Eldigan’s eyes squinted, noting how he took it even more seriously now.

“Perhaps you are having another baby.”

“Sigurd—“ Finn coughed so hard the beer nearly spilled all over his coat. “God,” he mumbled after steadying himself again, “that took half of my lifespan.”

“If not, then what is it?” Sigurd blurted, “or it is Eldigan who is having another baby.”

“Am I? Is that it?”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Good God, Eldie, you know how to make the loudest shut up.”

“I assure you, nothing is wrong with the casserole,” Finn spoke again, “because we all ate it, not just Lachesis. If something was wrong, I would be in hospital instead of playing bowling with you guys right now. If not me, then Nanna would have shown… symptoms.”

“And how was it?”

“Delicious! Too delicious that I thought it was black magic. Ares was right about the sausages.”

Eldigan could not conceal his triumphant smirk. “It is my favorite because of a reason.”

“Oi, back to the topic,” Sigurd nudged him.

“… Ahem. Right. Pardon me,” the blonde cleared his throat. “This is even weirder then. All of you ate the casserole and you got nothing to complain about besides it being too awesome.”

Everyone nodded, spared Quan who was busy hitting pins.

“Come to think of it, we had casserole on our table too yesterday,” Eldigan continued, “and it was fine, actually. … It was too fine to be poisoned. It was so, so… fine…”

“… Now he’s reminiscing his gross casserole sex,” Sigurd chirped again. “Eldie, nobody thinks of poison but you here. If the food was poisoned, Lachesis would not cry. She would probably throw up or rushed to bathroom out of diarrhea.”

“You are a great descriptor,” Finn grimaced. Quan was now back to their table, taking his seat beside Finn.

“I don’t get you,” was the first thing he said after sitting down, nearly knocked Sigurd out cloud with the bowling ball for delivering his opening passionately. “Get a hold of yourselves! Eldigan, you there think of the possibility of your wife accidentally poisoning people. Finn, Lachesis showed some emotions and you panicked? Sigurd and your childish baby-making jokes—I get it, jealous of Ethlyn and me, are you—ahem, sorry for drifting, gentlemen—but I mean, come on. Ethlyn sometimes bakes overly-sweet madeleines. Mirroring herself, maybe… ahem. I mean, nothing matters because I love her just the way she is, you get it?! It’s just a damn casserole.”

“That’s…” Eldigan, Finn, and Sigurd stared at him awkwardly.

“Alright, casserole extraordinaire,” Quan relented. “The three of you love your spouses but dumb as hell,” there was a proud smile he could not care less to tone down. “Read between the lines. Be sensitive and sentimental. Be someone she can trust.”

“… Quan.”

“Eldie?”

“… Did you order a casserole from Ares as well?”

“You guys are beyond saving,” Quan sighed before he went back to play bowling.

********

 

 **_anblacknight_ ** _Last night’s dinner. Envious people, go fuck yourselves or give my mom a call._

 **_imnotaplant_ ** _Duuude. You cook?_

 **_lightprincess_ ** _I’m otw!_

 **_darkscion_ ** _Oh so these are what you peasants ate. I liked my last night’s foie gras._

 **_friegish_ ** _Julius…_

 **_thunderingwithpride_ ** _Looking superb, Nordion! But last night’s foie gras was great too._

Ares smirked, grabbing his phone again once he saw the notification light flashed. As expected, typically his food posts—or rather, his mom’s cooking he posted—quickly gained likes and comments not long after it was on Instagram. He swiped down, tapping his screen to begin replying to the first comments he got. Ah, the virtue of private, protected account, he thought, because he was posting privately and gods be damned if his temper had a hand damaging his mother’s blossoming business.

 **_anblacknight_ ** _what for, **@lightprincess,** kicking my ass? **@friegish** that lizard **@darkscion** got a tongue and ate human food? **@thunderingwithpride** thank you! Before I tell you to go fuck yourself as well, Reinhardt, check your DM for my mom’s catering. Now go fuck yourself. **@imnotaplant** … who is this again?_

 **_imnotaplant_ ** _Hey Ares my dude **@anblacknight** it’s Leif who took introduction to international economics with you last year. Nanna introduced us after that during lunch on the same day. _

**_anblacknight_ ** _oh, I see **@imnotaplant** the guy who banged my cousin. No I don’t, it’s my mom’s._

“Hey-ooo!”

Ares nearly fell off his chair when he could hear the cheery greeting. The door to his room creaked open, revealing strands of short light blonde hair as the master of the voice bobbed her head to see him. “There is this thing called knocking, you know.”

“You know you are not actually _that_ annoyed,” Nanna shook her head. “Look what I got you. Mom was just so ecstatic because Aunt Grahnye’s casserole was otherworldly superb, so she baked some pies for you Nordion lions.”

“Nonsense. You are my family, a Nordion too,” Ares huffed, but his lips parted into a faint smile as he said that. “Thanks, I guess.  Another intrusion and I’ll disown you, though.”

“Can’t you be cool like, for more than five minutes?” Nanna rolled her eyes as she nudged Ares to get up. “Come on. I’ll have these arranged on the plates for everybody.”

Ares lazily dragged his feet to follow her. He liked his solitude, and ever since he was a little boy he would rather have people sparing the slices for him rather than eating with a large group that was not his family. But it was only Nanna, and she was so far the closest he could call a real, close friend. So he glanced one more time on his phone screen before following her.

 ** _dancedancerebellion_** _Hello, lovelies! Ever wanna do simple stretching to relieve back pain but dunno how? Here’s simple stretching tip u can watch! Have a gr8 evening! XOXO._

Ares taped the phone to give the post a Like, throwing the phone on to the bed and made his way to tail Nanna. She was already taking out the pies, putting them on the plates, under the confused-yet-amazed look of Eldigan’s. “Maybe Finn is having a… baby…”

“Eldie?”

“… No. I’ll get Sigurd next time,” Eldigan shook his head.

“I kept telling your father Mr. Chalphy there is a court jester, but I guess opposites do attract,” Grahnye sighed again. This was not the first time Sigurd’s wild shenanigans—as she put it—distressed her ever-serious, ever-esteemed husband.

“Dear sister in law,” Eldigan read the small card Lachesis apparently had put in the box, “Thank you for your casserole. In gratitude, please try out the products I’ll proudly lunch next week! … Did not you order one from Ares, or was it a try-out gift?”

“She paid,” Ares responded dryly. “But they look… well.” Even he could not help but staring in awe at what were laid on the plates before him. His aunt had sent three different pies—a classic apple pie, a fall-themed pumpkin pie, and a daring coconut matcha one. Each of the pies was richly decorated. Trademark of Master Cakes was that Lachesis was pretty generous with fruit cuts for the toppings on her cakes, and it could be proven quickly when Nanna began cutting the pies. The classic apple pie richly contained thinly-sliced apple cuts. The pumpkin pie even had some oranges, and in a bold move even the coconut matcha pie contained sliced coconuts.

“There is more,” Eldigan flipped the card to read the rest of the messages, “Made with love and care even Ares can eat them all. Love you, my cute non sweet-toothed baby nephew! XX.”

“Gross,” Ares scowled, only to be met with Nanna’s merciless chuckling.

“I smell something,” Grahnye mumbled.

“You did not leave the stove on, dear,” Eldigan answered.

“Oh, I know, dear,” Grahnye said. “It’s just…” her fork dug into a classic apple pie slice Nanna had specially arranged for her, and…

“Mom?” Ares looked at her, worried. Grahnye covered her mouth, her eyes widened as if she was trying hard not to feel anything. Everyone’s attention now turned at Grahnye, whom they had been used to look after because of her frail condition. “… Mother?” he asked again in a careful manner. As a child he used to see his mother needing to stop, sit, or take a rest when overworked, and now, a young adult at 20, the image and horror still lingered.

“Oh—oh my God—“

“Ares, get some water,” Eldigan quickly took control, scooping Grahnye to the nearest chair he could find while Ares bolted out to do what he was told.

“No, I’m alright—“ Grahnye spoke again, slowly taking her hand off as she pensively stared at the pie slices Nanna set for her. “What did I just have?”

“Uh—apple pie?” it was Nanna who responded. “Are you… are you alright, Auntie Gra?”

“Apple pie?! It can’t be—get me the coconut matcha one, please!”

“S… sure?” Nanna, despite the answer, was actually still unsure of everything. Yet she reluctantly pushed the plate at Grahnye’s direction, and everyone held their breaths when Grahnye dug her fork into the pie slice again.

“Holy mother of God and all of her in-laws and their in-laws as well,” Grahnye mumbled with a mouthful of matcha pie, her eyes half-closed as if she was in an ecstatic trance. Swallowing the first bite in no time she got another bite, this time none other than a giant scoop she had to force in her mouth and chew before the crumbs fell over her clothes. “Oh, God—“

“What is… happening?” Eldigan stared in shock.

Grahnye flushed her second bite with the water Ares fetched for her. “See,” she squeaked, her voice trembling as if she was about to break. “There is something!”

“… Yes?” Eldigan could only watch when Grahnye enthusiastically slammed her fist on the table.

“These pies are way too nice!! They are so out of my league! Are these made by a human meant for other humans, or did your sister sell her soul to the devil?” Grahnye now limped in her chair as she began to sob. “Eldie—can you—can you believe—feeling rejected by pastries?!”

“I… no?”

“I can never be even a third of a half as good as your sister,” Grahnye began to sob, taking some plies of tissue from the box Nanna had absent-mindedly brought her. “Here, taste these pies, come on—“ before her husband could react, she already shoved a scoop at Eldigan’s face.

“Mmm. Myeawh—I mwean—I gwuessh I undershtandsh nwow—“ Eldigan commented as he chewed on the pies. “This apple pie is just so… sophisticated. I wonder—I can taste some honey, and then—I don’t know, cinnamon? Is it even possible? Ah, my dear sister Lachesis. She always pays attention to details where people normally leave out,” he smiled adoringly. “And coconut with matcha? I only heard it was a trend lately, but this is the first time I get to see it in action.”

“… I can totally eat this, yeah,” Ares munched on the daring pie, glaring at the snickering Nanna. “If you tell Aunt Lachesis, you _die,_ Nanna Nordion-Lenster.”

“… Alright, it is decided, then,” Grahnye clenched her fists. Her eyes sparked the determination nobody thought she ever had. “I know it! I can always see your intentions and subtexts very clearly, little Lachesis! If you want war, then you shall have one.”

“Uh… dear?” Eldigan nervously patted her shoulder.

“Your sister shall see that I didn’t get to tame you with nothing, and…”

“… Gross, again,” Ares sighed, taking a whole plate of the leftover coconut matcha pie with him. When Nanna was about to tease him again, he sharply glared at her. _“No.”_

“Grahnye, you are great at cooking. Lachesis is great at baking. I love everything both of you make within your respective specialization,” Eldigan, undeterred, unyielding, still tried to comfort the now-insecure Grahnye.

“Exactly because of that! I’d love to have you love my pies as much as you do my casseroles as well!” Grahnye stretched her hands, dramatically declared to Eldigan as if she was singing in a tragic opera. “It’s just pies. Pies! Basic household necessity! Can’t I just have that as well to make my husband happy? Woeful gods, is it too much to ask for a feeble mortal such as I? And for a while now I’ve yet to learn to not wish for the impossible, such as rivaling your sister’s devil’s gift in making pastries.”

“I… better go home I guess,” Nanna awkwardly chuckled. “Glad to know everyone liked them!”

“Hold on where you are, dear,” Grahnye seized the young woman’s arm, her eyes flashed stars and meteors as she did so, “of course you don’t mind if I thank your mother with yet another casserole, do you…?”

********

 

Eldigan slumped on his table, to the concerned look of Quan. The Guinness the latter had ordered for him remained untouched, as well as the jumbo carne asada platter before them. Quan grabbed his cola, shaking his head sympathetically. “Guess we’ll just wait for Sigurd to come so this carne asada can receive a united, triangle attack.”

“Who… had the idea of ordering this size again?” Eldigan slurred.

“Sigurd.”

“Should have known,” Eldigan sighed, withdrawing his head off the table and switched into a normal sitting position. “Ugh, my neck feels so weird as if I was decapitated.”

“Hellooo,” Sigurd waved his hand, and quickly took the seat beside Eldigan. His eyes lighted when he saw what waited on the table. “… Wow, Quan. You love me.”

“So let’s just dig in then. Finn can’t come today, purchasing the pastry ingredients for Lachesis,” Quan commented, which Sigurd graciously took as a green light since he began to make his way devastating the carne asada army. As their hands simultaneously went up and down for the carne asada, only then they realized Eldigan still paused where he sat and did not join them snacking.

“Eldigan,” Sigurd tap the blonde’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” as if being yanked off a dream, Eldigan startled.

“Are you alright?” Sigurd replied, prompting Quan to stop eating. “Do we need to load you into a hospital or something to get some bones and nerves checked?”

“No. I also exercise like both of you,” Eldigan almost scowled. “And we are barely 42.”

“You look sluggish though,” Quan offered an opinion. Eldigan made a desperate sigh before he fetched his phone out of his pocket, and held it in such a way for Quan and Sigurd to see.

“It’s been going around for... two weeks I guess,” he spoke as if yearning for something from the past, his expression was so comical that Quan frowned.

“ _Now_ I am concerned,” the brown-haired dad muttered while Sigurd scrolled the screen which Eldigan showed them. Not long after, Sigurd made a whistling sound, which successfully caught Quan’s attention because he shifted his gaze to the phone instead of its owner.

 **_lionmeals_ ** _new batch is ready for the week! What’s your favorite? Please let us know!_

 **_darkscion_ ** _Afternoon **@lionmeals** I’d like to inquire about the braised beef with red sauce on behalf of my boss, Julius Velthomer._

 **_schalphy_ ** _Hi, **@lionmeals**! May I please know your policy about last-order placement? Just a college kid who gets hungry at night while studying here, hehe. Sorry to trouble you._

 **_dancedancerebellion_ ** _hellohello **@lionmeals**! I found about you from a friend. The casseroles look AMAZING omg!! Are they available for a la charte or do you only deliver weekly meal set? Thx in advance!_

Quan tapped the ID to check on the account— ** _lionmeals._** _Lionheart Kitchen. We shall satisfy your hunger like one tames a lion! From our small humble kitchen with love, weekly menu delivery is now open._ And there was a number attached to the screen for further inquiries. “Isn’t that Grahnye’s number?” Quan spoke. “She’s my old friend, so of course I remember.”

Eldigan nodded.

“So this is the catering,” Sigurd confirmed, scrolling for the posted photos. The account had about three hundred or so followers, a considerable number for a small, home industry of a mostly single-manned kitchen. And he made yet another whistling sound upon seeing the colorful, tasty-looking dishes his eyes were treated with. “Aren’t you a lucky man,” Sigurd laughed heartily, slapping Eldigan on his shoulder. “… Is that my son on the comments section? Damn, I should have listened when Deirdre told me to save some leftovers for Seliph. Thank you for saving his nights!”

“Too lucky,” Eldigan sighed, “it’s almost like I’m cursed.”

“What?” Sigurd cocked an eyebrow but an abrupt arrival interrupted him.

“Hey.” Finn spared a quick nod at the trio as he rushed inside. He was rather sweaty as if he just ran in a competition, but his expression was grim similar to Eldigan’s. The trio barely had enough time to ask why he was there, but Finn already glanced at the mutilated carne asada on the table, wasting no time to scoop a bite for himself… a generous bite that was.

“… Finn?” the trio looked at him, bewildered.

“Mmmmhmmm. Beautiful. Beautiful, just beautiful,” Finn munched the food. “I only stopped for a drink. Still need a couple of things from this detailed list,” he took out his wallet, revealing a roll of paper to the trio’s horror, “I hadn’t had anything since the morning.”

“Impossible. My sister will not let you,” Eldigan retorted, “…  neither will my wife.”

“Exactly!”

Sigurd now exchanged glances with Quan. “… Is there something we do not know here?”

“For starters…” now it was Finn who held up his phone for the duo to see, and just like before, Quan took the initiative of checking the ID while Sigurd scrolled for photos.

“Master Cakes by Lachesis Nordion. Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication,” Quan read the bio out loud. “Sounds so Lachesis,” he chuckled.

“It was her love child, alright,” Finn sighed exasperatedly while Sigurd snickered. “And as much as I admire her… heck, I _worship_ the ground she treads on. But things have been hectic lately.”

“Change position. Maybe you are bored.”

“Eldigan!!”

“What?” Eldigan quirked an eyebrow. “I know my sister, Finn. If things feel hectic lately, perhaps she just wants you to take control once in a while because she is tired.”

 _“… Oh,”_ Finn returned to his seat. “No, and really though, I don’t mind my share of whatever she tasked me to. It’s just…”

“You are a sub.”

“Sigurd—“

“What?”

“You can’t use that. Only Eldigan can pull an Eldigan.”

“… Alright,” begrudgingly, Sigurd yielded. “I really don’t understand. So we have the two of you cheeky lucky dear _bastard_ friends of mine whose wives are food artists… yet you are unhappy?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Quan joined in, “Your wives’ respective businesses seem to run smoothly if not superbly. I only saw hundreds of likes for the new coconut matcha pie and at least ten inquiries asking about the new braised beef. So what is the problem here?”

“It’s Grahnye.”

“It’s Lachesis.”

Both Finn and Eldigan stopped after realizing they uttered the answer at the same time. “ _What_ is it that is currently happening with my sister?” Eldigan eventually _glared_ at Finn.

“Not what you think it is,” Finn’s head slumped again. “It’s just… too much… food…”

Eldigan slammed his fist on the table, prompting their drinks to shake. He had a sheepish shy expression after realizing what he just did, quickly following it up to reason. “That’s,” he muttered, grabbing a napkin to clean where Quan’s cola spilled, “is exactly what I meant to say. Finn conveyed it pretty nicely.”

“Glad I’m not doing so badly as your brother-in-law,” Finn managed to smirk a little bit. “But what do you mean, ‘exactly’? Don’t tell me you are having similar problem!”

“It depends on what you call similar,” said Eldigan. “So why don’t you start first?”

Sigurd and Quan could only stare at their two friends.

********

 

The Cold War between Lachesis and Grahnye sparked in no time like wild fire, and this time it involved their respective mastery of the culinary arts. When Eldigan and Finn arrived at their homes that evening, they were being welcomed by yet another messy kitchen and the colorful smells of homemade cooking. Only that this time was different. Eldigan found his nose being fondled by the fragrant smell of baked-something when his car pulled into the driveway. Messy kitchen was hardly an unusual sight to behold for the Nordions, the way flour stains and constant smell of baked bread were not an unusual experience to find in Finn and Lachesis’ household. Eldigan Nordion found his son Ares at their backyard, all dirty and ragged as he lie under Mystletainn to check on its machine.

“Ares,” he called, having to do it one more time because of the roaring machine.

The Nordion heir looked up. “Dad,” he nodded.

“How is it?” Eldigan crouched beside him, mindlessly throwing his briefcase elsewhere.

“I’ll get to it eventually,” Ares shrugged. “I think it just needs oiling. And perhaps deep-cleaning the gears and all that,” he rested his arm over the motorcycle, and Eldigan had to admit he was pretty proud of Ares. His son got Mystletainn as a second-hand, used big bike shortly after graduating high school, and much to everyone’s surprises he had been fixing— _nursing,_ as his wife would put it with a tender giggle—everything essential until the old horse was healthy enough to race the roads again.

“Let’s clean it first and see if the machine still roars,” Eldigan bobbed his head to check where Ares just did. “Did you change the accu water?”

“… Ah. No,” Ares held his head low. Eldigan sympathetically patted his shoulder in a fatherly manner, knowing well his son tended to be like that and prone to never let himself fail.

“Let’s do that later while having this beast checked at a repair shop. It’s an old warrior, so you need to pay extra attention to corrosion and all that,” Eldigan spared a faint smile as he ruffled his cub’s mane. “The battery might have been worn-out but you did great for this one.”

“Perhaps there was some overheat while rushing to deliver for Mom,” Ares muttered after giving a thought. “May all the ancestors help us, Dad. She has not been out of that kitchen for five hours. I know this because I called home before I’m done at the gym.”

“What is happening— _now,_ currently?” Eldigan responded.

“You know,” Ares grimaced, “the _usual_.”

Eldigan frowned again. “Is she still doing that?” after the fateful day when Grahnye’s casseroles established themselves as rivals to Lachesis’ pies it was as if everyone in both households were involved in an unending food wars. While Grahnye labored herself in the kitchen to train her pastry-making abilities, Lachesis, according to what Finn recounted on their dads day out, had been obsessing herself over casseroles and other homemade dinners… but mostly casseroles. There was one during breakfast. She would either leave one for lunch or pack some slices for Finn’s lunch. While his coworkers praised him, Finn had been dreading to find yet another way getting rid of the bland, half-cooked odd slices so that he would be back with an empty lunchbox in the evening… without Lachesis knowing.

“It _has_ to be casserole,” Lachesis would say it again and again as if chanting a spell. After a dozen of frustrating try-outs and a frustrated food-taster-husband, Finn had been eating leftover donuts from their own shop just so he could have a varied food instead of enduring yet another casserole. In-between inventing new recipes for the shop and casserole trial-error, sometimes Lachesis would come out of their kitchen with a plate of… various foods. Sometimes it’s an overly-sweet braised oxtail, sometimes a rather-odd take of chicken curry or even noodle soups. And as it pained Finn to tell her how the foods still tasted unusual, it pained him even more to inform Lachesis that Grahnye still failed her own pies and pastries because it was the only thing that mattered after baking a wonderful casserole for now.

“I don’t think she will stop soon,” Ares grimaced again, something Eldigan knew way, way too well. Grahnye had been trying out to bake pastries these days, and Eldigan could not anymore count how many times she stuffed him with try-out pies. Sadly there would always be something wrong which came with her pies—from dry if not hard crusts, deflated dough which refused to rise upon baking, uncooked stuffing, broken crust—

“She may overwork herself again and put her health at risk,” Eldigan shook his head.

“Good luck then,” Ares smirked, giving another try to ignite Mysltetainn’s machine.

“No. Come with me, young man,” Eldigan glared, “and that’s _fucking_ noisy.”

Ares sighed, taking off his key and tailed behind. Together they traced their front threshold as if the house was full of landmines, and smell of yet some baked dough quickly invaded their senses as they ventured deeper into the house. Eldigan made his way to the kitchen while Ares bolted for the bathroom to clean himself.

“Grahnye?” Eldigan called.

“Welcome home… dear… husband…” in what appeared like a comical skit, Grahnye rose from the chair she had been sitting in before he showed up. Eldigan was stunned where he stood upon hearing Grahnye’s robotic, ominous speech mannerism, and even more so when he saw at least five pies semi-scattered all over the kitchen counter.

“I think we need to talk,” he began gently, studying her face to assess her reaction.

“I want to talk to you too!” she threw herself into his arms. Her eyebrows frowned deeply, and her eyes looked like losing their lights and Eldigan could immediately tell she was distressed… if not _severely_ disappointed. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, Eldigan’s prediction was proven true when Grahnye began to sniff again. The elder Nordion reached for the tissue box across the counter, which his wife took. “Look at them,” she waved her arm to where all the pies were. “I failed! None of them turned out right! I’m so embarrassed… why…”

“Come now, Grahnye,” Eldigan placed his hand on the small of her back and gently ushered her to their dining table. “You are exhausted. Ares told me you holed yourself in the kitchen for hours.”

Grahnye nodded. “And still couldn’t get any of these damn things right. H-how am I supposed to face you like this, Eldie? I can’t even bake a damn pie. Why did you marry me again?”

 _My beautiful house has turned into a sitcom,_ Eldigan looked at his wife, confused. Everything proceeded in what almost looked like a dramatic if not comical sketch, and yet her questions put him at point-blank. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does! Your sister—she just looks damn perfect, of course you dote on her.”

“Have I appeared not, on you?”

“… Eldie?”

“And she is not perfect,” Eldigan chuckled. “The way you are fine just the way you are. And then you have me, someone who can hardly bake or cook. A bad influence on Ares.”

“I heard that, Dad,” came a reply from the bathroom.

“I thought if I could bake sweets and pastries you boys like, you’d be happy,” Grahnye grumbled, feeling too embarrassed to look at Eldigan at the moment.

“Ah, don’t worry about Ares. He’s rather picky when it comes to food, yet he eats whatever you put on his plate,” Eldigan cackled again. “Besides, where did you get this idea that I’d be happy with a perfectly-baked damn pie in exchange of your health, Grahnye?”

“That’s…”

“And dirty kitchen,” there was a reply from the bathroom again, “… Fuck. I flushed the soap.”

“I meant to treat you two, but seemed end up troubling you instead,” Grahnye whispered.

“Well, if you like an honest man, Grahnye,” Eldigan coughed, before bending a bit to whisper in her ear, “too much food, need more… _food_.”

“Wha—?”

“Oops, phone,” Eldigan, maintaining his trademark poker face which he passed down on Ares, swiftly fished his phone out of his pocket. “Yes, this is Eldigan. Oh, it’s you, Finn. I just got home myself. … What? … Come again? Lachesis is in the hospital? … I understand.”

“Lachesis? … Ah, Eldie—“

“Grahnye?!”

********

 

Lachesis exchanged glances with Grahnye, who awkwardly looked back at her. Both women then shook their heads sighing, while their husbands also shook their heads as they made a _tsk, tsk!_ expression of disapproval.

“Stop copying me,” Lachesis hissed.

“You started it,” Grahnye glared at her.

“How do I know you are _that_ insecure?” the Nordion sister countered.

“The same way I thought you were perfect!” Grahnye replied.

“… And turns out you are… great too,” Lachesis averted her eyes from Grahnye’s. “I sold many cakes and still could not bake a damn casserole. Or even boiled some noodle soup. Or…”

“… making half-assed pies. Made _salty_ madeleines. Broke-stirring pudding sauce. Ruined Bavarian donuts for not being able to stuff those damned bastards,” Grahnye finished her sentence, her voice was meek as if she was so much in disbelief of herself. “I’m so stupid.”

“That makes two of us,” Lachesis’ gaze softened as she grinned. “Hello there, dumb bitch.”

Grahnye tilted her head at Lachesis. She also smiled this time, nodding. “Hi as well, dumb bitch.” The women then broke into a sincere hearty laughter, their hands reached for each other from the hospital beds they each occupied.

“Ahem,” Eldigan cut in, “sorry to remind you my dear girls, but the doctor said you are to have some full rest because you both have been too exhausted from cooking.”

“Lachesis, everyone loves you,” Finn held his phone for his wife to see. New five comments came in the past two minutes, asking about sugar-glazed donuts made of potatoes Master Cakes just launched before Lachesis collapsed out of exhaustion and other things.

 **_tinnyyymagic_ ** _omg I love your cakes **@MasterCakes**! Truly nutrition for the heart. Who needs a man when you can just buy some sachertortes?_

 **_windrider_ ** _What if the man buys you some **@MasterCakes** , **@tinnyyymagic** ;))_

 **_tinnyyymagic_ ** _omg Ced **@windrider**_

 **_pheeew_ ** _your fruit cakes are everything **@mastercakes**_

 **_larceiheyhey_ ** _yeeessss **@pheeew** I’d kill a man for their fruit cakes. Men deserve to die anyway._

“As they you,” Eldigan also held his phone for Grahnye to see. “Ares had been helping with the questions while you were asleep, and the braised beef got some nice 500 likes and counting. I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

 **_lionmeals_ ** _Hi, **@dancedancerebellion** the casserole is available as a single menu. We have options for the sausages and selection of meat including vegetarian options. Check your DM. _

**_lionmeals_ ** _The seasonal fall menu is back! Check out for the heart-warming soups which will keep your stomach warm during these cold fall nights, **@schalphy.** We are currently delivering for lunches and dinners only. Last order should be made at around 8 PM, sorry about that._

 **_schalphy_ ** _**@lionmeals** ah, it’s alright. My parents probably aren’t even home._

 **_lionmeals_ ** _… are you ordering food or suggesting me something else, **@schalphy**?_

 **_darkscion_ ** _Thank you **@lionmeals** for dropping by at our tower this evening. The boss loves the red-sauced braised beef. Can’t wait for our next order._

 **_lionmeals_ ** _You are very welcome, Julius. I know it’s you, asshole_ _:)_ _P/S this is Ares. **@darkscion**._

 **_krolowarahna_ ** _Oh this brought back memories. The last time I had kielbasa was more than a decade ago upon visiting extended family in the Silessia region. Thank you **@lionmeals** for the wonderful new-arrival kielbasa casserole._

 **_lexlexlex_ ** _hi, can I place another delivery for the weekly lunchbox? Love the servings. Generous!_

“I… guess we’ll just get some take-outs each time my boys want some sweets, huh,” Grahnye glanced at Lachesis, who eagerly scrolled down the account Finn showed her.

“Likewise, I think we’ll just order from Ares again for the dinners,” Lachesis breathed a sigh of relief. “I never thought laying down would feel so nice…”

“Same here, oh my God… I thought my back would break…” Grahnye muttered. “Your cakes are fantastic, Lachesis. Ares had the coconut matcha pie all for himself. The apple pie was truly high class, I did not even know apple pies belonged with the bourgeoisie.”

“I too—never thought casseroles could taste _that_ heavenly,” Lachesis responded.

“I never thought I’d be so glad having to hear the possibility of eating dinner fast foods for the rest of my life,” Finn whispered. They chatted again a bit more before the door to the room where the women stayed in creaked open, revealing a rather tall figure with a blue hair.

“Sigurd!” Eldigan whispered to the new visitor.

“Ah,” Sigurd caught Eldigan’s towering figure, and he patiently waited for another person to come in before gently closing the door without making a sound. Everyone’s gaze darted at Sigurd’s stunningly beautiful serene wife, Deirdre, who nearly gasped when she found both Lachesis and Grahnye at the beds.

“Are you alright? What happened? Oh my God.”

“It’s a long story…” Lachesis started.

“… We were being dumb,” Grahnye cut in. “How are you, Deirdre?”

“Sorry for not being able to rush here so soon,” Deirdre spared a calming, comforting smile as she placed her basket near the counter. “Because… I baked these for you!”

“P… pies?” everyone’s eyes were now wide-open, especially Grahnye and Lachesis.

“Another… pie,” Eldigan’s voice sounded so otherworldly as if he was possessed.

“When I heard of this little competition both of you were having, something just clicked,” Sigurd helped Deirdre with the pies, “my wife bakes simple yet delicious pies ever.”

“S-Sigurd…” Deirdre awkwardly held her head down, too shy for the sudden compliment she got and how Sigurd spoke of her with pride. “I-it’s nothing… not sophisticated like Lachesis’ cakes or complex like Grahnye’s dishes…”

Lachesis grabbed a bite as Grahnye munched a slice.

“That’s…”

“W-what’s wrong?” Deirdre’s expression turned deathly worried.

“God help us, not again,” Eldigan locked arms with Finn as they braced themselves together.

“W-what a magnificent lemon pie!!” Grahnye and Lachesis shouted at the same time. “Deirdre, how come you never tell us you are sooo good at this?? What did you put there?”

“U-uh—I… should I?” Deirdre fidgeted, “glad that you liked it, though! I don’t mind baking more for you to help you back at your feet.”

“That’s my wife, alright,” Sigurd laughed heartily, embracing Deirdre with utter pride. “What?” he frowned, dumbfounded when Eldigan looked like he was ready to karate-chop the blue-haired man, while Finn’s expression barked _I could just bludgeon you, medieval-style_ on the spot.

“Say, Deirdre, why don’t you come often and cook with us?” Grahnye and Lachesis looked at Deirdre with a such pleading hopeful look, each of their hands took Deirdre’s.

“Me? Really, cooking with professional chefs like both of you?”

“Awh, shush, it doesn’t matter!” said Lachesis. “Why haven’t I added you yet??”

“Yes, you have Instagram, do you? That way we can exchange recipes…”

Sigurd, Eldigan, and Finn simply exchanged glances with each other. Their shared nervousness changed into sincere, hearty laughter while Deirdre, who was blissfully unaware of everything, simply agreed to show her Instagram, which she said she signed up for to feel closer to Seliph. Everyone toned down their voice and profusely apologized to the nurses who had come to measure the patients’ blood pressure and temperature, until the nurses had a slice of the pies themselves and of course, getting a handful about these businesses called the Master Cakes and Lionheart Kitchen. The hyped situation toned down a bit as night came down, leaving Grahnye and Lachesis alone, at least until their scheduled release the next day.

“Dumb bitch,” Grahnye whispered to Lachesis that night.

“What, dumb bitch?” Lachesis purred lazily. “… Resting is heavenly…”

“It is,” Grahnye agreed. “… Anyway, I still think you are perfect.”

Lachesis smirked. “And you are formidably great too, Sis.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea just came out of the blue...
> 
> I've been wanting to rewrite what was previously called "Magvel Instagram", my first trial-error AU snippets, into a more reader-friendly format. Thus, "Instagram Emblem", which is not exclusively Magvel unlike its predecessor. 
> 
> That said, I've also always wanted to present a happier nuance in regards to our beloved Jugdral folks, especially the first generations since they deserve all the good things in this world *cue sobbing*. Don't mind me, Fire Emblem Heroes' Door to Destiny banner as well as Tempest Trial event gave me Jugdral feels. well, I hope this one is likable enough for you :)
> 
> [ Anyway, can you believe there isn't any Eldie/Grahnye tag so far? I like the idea of women supporting women instead of conditioning themselves as rivals ;P ]


End file.
